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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922972">Hatake to the Rescue... and Dinner?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubokko/pseuds/Jubokko'>Jubokko</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asking Someone on a Date is DIFFICULT, Comedy-ish?, Definitely Not Transposing My Own Awkwardness Onto Kakashi Here, Emotionally Constipated Ninja Trying to Coherently Communicate, Iruka Week 2021, Iruka is Sassy Even When He’s About to Pass Out on the Spot, Kakashi is a Walking Disaster, M/M, Sealing Dinner in a Storage Scroll, Tired Iruka, scrolls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:15:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922972</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubokko/pseuds/Jubokko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Years worth of training kept Iruka from faceplanting. Fatigue, however, caused one hand to shoot out and grab hold of something to keep himself from losing balance. </p>
  <p>Unfortunately, as full awareness returned to him, he realized that the <em>“something”</em> that he’d taken hold of was none other than the collar of Kakashi’s flak jacket.</p>
  <p>The stupid jounin was blushing again. </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“What—the <em>hell</em> are—you doing?” Iruka wheezed. "You ask me on a date, then try to run away before you can hear my answer? How rude!”</p>
  <p>Kakashi seemed to squirm under Iruka’s scrutinizing glare. </p>
  <p>“Well, I—uh—” </p>
</blockquote>[Or—Iruka has a long day and waltzes out of a restaurant without his dinner and flak jacket. Kakashi seizes the opportunity to ask an important question... and <strike>completely</strike> loses his cool]
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Iruka Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hatake to the Rescue... and Dinner?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! *waves* </p><p>This is my entry for Day 1 of Iruka Week! The prompt: Overworked &amp; Sleep Deprived. </p><p>Self-beta'd so please be kind to me 🙏 </p><p>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was evening in Konoha, and the afternoon crowd had long since retreated beneath the eaves of the various sit-in diners and restaurants that lined the main road. The warm, golden glow of the signs and open doors was inviting—a contrast to the chill, night breeze that rattled the shutters and carried the earthy tang of incoming rainfall. </p><p>Any skilled shinobi could easily decipher such notes from the breeze. They’d note the veil blurring the distant mountains or even the subtle increase in humidity—all signs of a storm yet to come. Yet, there were also skilled shinobi who were just as blind to it all. Or, more specifically, a <em> single </em>shinobi seated at the counter to one of the larger open-air diners—slowly nodding off into his untouched glass of ice water. </p><p> </p><p>The tabletop was swimming, the light tan material weaving beneath his gaze. Blinking, Iruka attempted to focus on his chopsticks, the two simple strips of bamboo resting on the porcelain <em>hashioki </em>just to his right, but even <em>they </em>seemed distorted. </p><p>An overpowering urge to yawn overtook him, and Iruka stretched, exhausted muscles popping and straining as he leaned back in his seat. As he moved back, the wall clock on the other side of the small shop chimed. Even through vision blurred by tiredness, Iruka could make out that it was still nine. </p><p><em> Nine… only nine, </em> he thought, exasperated.  <em> How the hell am I so tired already?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Iruka leaned on one elbow and watched the sushi chef prep a fresh sushi wrap on the other side of the glass through half-lidded eyes. The way the man skillfully worked the raw fish and nori was oddly hypnotic; Iruka could not tear away his gaze. He continued to watch even after the man had moved on from prepping the sushi to cleaning the countertops with a fresh rag. </p><p>He only managed to break free of the trance when a pair of hands gently set a large, sealed paper bag in front of him, a receipt clipped to the top. </p><p>It took Iruka a moment to realize that this was his food. He frowned, he hadn’t ordered takeout. </p><p>Dazed, Iruka’s eyes slowly moved to the smiling woman on the other side of the counter. She was thin and lanky, and had long, dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, concealed behind the standard, plain white hat that most chefs wore. Akari Yui was her name and she’d been there as long as Iruka could remember. She also knew him well from all the times he’d visited, and, by now, the insanity of his working schedule was a bit of a running joke between them.</p><p>“Long day?” She asked kindly. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of packing it to go.”</p><p>“Quite.” Iruka exhaled, smothering another yawn. “And thank you very much, I appreciate it. Had to work overtime today. It’s almost graduation at the Academy.”</p><p>“Ah.” The woman nodded sympathetically. “From what I heard, I doubt your mission room was any less hectic.” </p><p>Iruka groaned. “You’re right about that.” </p><p>Akari seemed about to reply, but was interrupted by a loud gaggle of pre-genin entering the shop. With a smile, she wished Iruka a pleasant evening before turning to deal with the younger shinobi, who promptly began pestering her about orders. </p><p> </p><p>With a sigh, Iruka pushed his water glass out of danger before heaving himself to his feet. </p><p>He slipped out of the shop without a second glance, feeling as though he were forcibly peeling his limbs off the ground with every step. </p><p>The sensation chased him all the way across the business district, up the stairs to his apartment, and only dissipated when he collapsed face-first in the fluffy cushions of his living room sofa. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Iruka blinked awake to the sound of someone pounding on his apartment door. Groaning, mouth tasting like grit, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. </p><p>Whoever was there certainly seemed to be knocking rather loudly, and he grumbled under his breath as the sound seemed to reverberate in the inside of his skull. </p><p>“Berightthere,” he slurred. </p><p>The knocking stopped. </p><p> </p><p>For what felt like a few centuries, Iruka fumbled around for his flak jacket. Finding himself unable to locate the article of protective clothing, he resignedly hastened to the door instead. </p><p>Through the slightly-opaque glass overlooking the steps, Iruka noted that the tall shadow seemed agitated, shifting from side to side almost non-stop—bothered, perhaps? Or nervous?</p><p>As he approached, it became increasingly obvious that whoever was standing outside had no idea what to do—their body language <em>screaming </em>awkwardness into the night air, illuminated as it was by the small emergency lights that lit the apartment’s main entrance. </p><p>Iruka frowned. That silhouette, though, he knew it from <em>somewhere… </em> </p><p>The figure turned slightly, and Iruka caught sight of what seemed to be a shock of gravity-defying, silver hair. Iruka gritted his teeth. </p><p><em> Hatake</em>. </p><p>The man who had caused many a headache in the recent months, bullied him with shitty mission reports, and single-handedly outed him in front of the entire shinobi force before the chunin exams was <em> here </em>. </p><p>Iruka yanked open the door, fatigue fading as a wave of irritation coursed through him. At least the man could’ve given him some kind of warning. </p><p>“What are you doing here, Hatake-san?” Iruka growled, “you…” </p><p> </p><p>Even in a state of half-awareness, Iruka’s brain immediately registered the pink flush that flooded the jounin’s face and the deepening hunch of the man’s posture. Both elements soon vanished as Kakashi drew himself to his full height and offered a jaunty salute with his free hand. </p><p>“Hello, Sensei. Thought you might want this.” Kakashi cocked his head to one side and held out a flak jacket. </p><p>Brow furrowing, Iruka gook the proferred item—it was his, no two ways about it. Mentally, Iruka kicked himself, feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach. </p><p>He bowed slightly. “Thank you for bringing this back…” His voice trailed off. </p><p><em> The food</em>. Iruka’s brain began to spiral. <em> Shit, how could I be so stupid?  </em></p><p>As if he could sense what Iruka was thinking, Kakashi withdrew something from inside his flak jacket. </p><p>“I… uh.” The jounin seemed to be stumbling to find words. “Here.” </p><p>Iruka felt a hand take his, and the next thing he knew, a scroll was being pressed into his palm. Confused, he looked up into Kakashi’s face—freezing once he noted that the jounin’s face had gone an even deeper shade of scarlet. </p><p>“Erm, Hatake-san, what… is this?” </p><p>Kakashi leaped back as if he’d been burned and began to rub the back of his neck, seemingly adamant in his quest to avoid Iruka’s eyes. </p><p>For a moment, there was silence. </p><p>Then, Kakashi cleared his throat. </p><p>“Maa—Sensei, would you like to get dinner at some point?” The man gestured at the scroll. “I mean, not <em> that </em> dinner, obviously, but… ahh… some other time?”</p><p>Iruka’s brow furrowed and he looked down at the object in his hands, jaw dropping. “This is my dinner? You put my food in a <em> storage scroll </em>?” </p><p>Suddenly, Kakashi’s other words finally clicked. </p><p>“Wait a minute—you’re asking—” </p><p>"You know what? Ignore me."</p><p>Confused, Iruka looked up—only to jump forward, indignance bolstering his tired muscles. </p><p>Kakashi had vaulted over the railing and was already mid-air when Iruka managed to grab hold of the man’s arm. Belatedly, Iruka realized that it was probably not the best decision he’d ever made, but by the time that revelation hit, it was too late.</p><p>He flipped over the railing, the world spinning uncontrollably as he careened down toward the ground. Kakashi’s face momentarily flashed into his view, and Iruka saw surprise and what seemed to be actual terror portrayed in the visible, gray eye.</p><p>Years worth of training kept Iruka from faceplanting. Fatigue, however, caused one hand to shoot out and grab hold of something to keep himself from losing balance. </p><p>Unfortunately, as full awareness returned to him, he realized that the <em>“something”</em> that he’d taken hold of was none other than the collar of Kakashi’s flak jacket.</p><p> </p><p>The stupid jounin was blushing again. </p><p>“What—the <em>hell</em> are—you doing?” Iruka wheezed. "You ask me on a date, then try to run away before you can hear my answer? How rude!”</p><p>Kakashi seemed to squirm under Iruka’s scrutinizing glare. </p><p>“Well, I—uh—”</p><p>Iruka shook his head and snorted, <em> tsking </em>loudly. He released the man and folded his arms. </p><p>“No matter. I accept,” he announced. “When and where?”</p><p>“You—ehHh?” Kakashi’s visible eye bugged. “I, uhh—Where would you like to go?” </p><p> </p><p><em> I don’t think he expected me to say “yes,” </em>Iruka thought. </p><p>He gave the man a smug smile. </p><p>“I think you know that answer already.”</p><p>“Ramen?”</p><p>Iruka grinned devilishly. “Seven o’clock tomorrow?” </p><p>“I—yes?”</p><p>Without a second glance, Iruka retrieved the jacket and scroll from where they’d fallen to the ground, and pushed chakra into his legs, leaping back up onto the stairs. He waved over his shoulder as he re-entered the apartment, keenly aware that the jounin was still rooted to the spot below.  </p><p>“I look forward to it!” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!<br/>All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! ❤️<br/>You can find me on <a href="https://akumu-jubokko.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a><br/>✨<a href="https://jubokko.carrd.co/">[socials]</a>✨</p></blockquote></div></div>
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